"I think I can... I think I can..."
It has been a while since I had been on a boys’ night out, so when my friend Steve suggested that a few of us get together last night, I thought what the heck… it beats spending a night in front of the telly and going over my projects.Now from past experience I know that these midweek escapades can very easily spiral into complete chaos, which if one is not careful, can make Thursday seem worse than judgment day. And man was I ever right on this one…We overdosed on mixture of alcohol, cigarettes, crass and loud juvenile behaviour, trying to pick up woman, arguments about Jennifer Lopez’s ass, the new James Bond and the state of the nation. Haha… yeah all the good stuff that reminds us why it is so good to be man. Damn... are we stupid! Even stranger is how much fun all of it seemed at the time. Today I feel as translucent as a sautéed onion… one that has been left in the fridge for too long… wrinkled and dehydrated and rapidly morphing into left-over deep-fried pork sausages. The lighting my office is stinging like sewing needles and my eyes are threatening to bleed... and Ernie Els is using my forehead as a driving range. I need an hour’s sleep, but it is a going to be a very... very long time indeed before 04h30 pm arrives. So until then and when I am finally able to slip underneath the downy bedcovers, I going to have to pretend that I am “the little engine that could”... that is, if I can fight off the banshees wailing in my head.
